


An Angel's apology

by DiaboloFramboise



Series: An Angel's apology [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: A bit angsty at the beginning, Apologies, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, post argument at the bandstand, then soft, then very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiaboloFramboise/pseuds/DiaboloFramboise
Summary: This takes place after the bandstand argument when Aziraphale tells Crowley that they are not friends and that it's over. This moment crushed my heart and I wanted to see Aziraphale think and apologize about it. The chapter stands alone as there is a resolution at the end but there is a steamy second part to this work for those interested.  You can read them in a row or separately according to if you want soft or smutty ineffable husbands or both :-)





	An Angel's apology

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my great beta reader thischarmingmutant :-)

End of the scene at the bandstand, dialogues from the TV show:

A: “Friends? We are not friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don’t even like you.”  
C: “You do.”  
A: “Even if I did know where the antichrist was I wouldn’t tell you. We are on opposites sides.”  
C: “We are on our side.”  
A: “This is not our side, Crowley, not anymore. It’s over.”  
C: “Right. Well, then. Have a nice doomsday.”

*********************************

As such a lover of books, Aziraphale knew better than anyone the power of words. He knew how they could make you feel like you were about to explode with joy or cry in despair. He knew how they could make you so angry that you wished to be able to punch someone or how they could make you question everything you thought you knew. Words were powerful; he had always known as such. 

However, he had never experienced until today how deep they could cut when used too rashly. How much damage they could make in a matter of seconds. The power that could seep from them when you use them to push someone away because you’re scared. Words had always given Aziraphale many emotions: joy, anger, surprise, sadness, even disgust, but they had never failed or disappointed him. Today, for the first time in his very long existence, Aziraphale felt like his beloved words had betrayed him.

They were just two little words though. Not even a full sentence, just seven ridiculous letters.  
  
_“It’s over.”_  
  
How could seven letters cut so deep? Because they had. There was no doubt about it. The way Crowley had looked when Aziraphale had said those seven tiny letters was forever engraved into his brain with no possibility to erase it. For as long as he would live, he would never forget the hurt, the sadness that Crowley’s face had shown at those simple words. He had looked so utterly wrecked that Aziraphale had to look away for a moment, unable to cope with the fact that he was the one responsible for putting that broken look on him.

Time went by after that dreadful day without any signs of Crowley, and for the first time in his very long life, Aziraphale physically felt it stretch. Time had never been a factor for him before. As an immortal being it wasn’t something he needed to worry about. Actually, it wasn’t something that even _meant_ anything to him. He and Crowley had spent decades apart, and it had never been an issue because they knew they got all the time in the world to bump into each other again for one reason or another. Even when being apart for a long time, they always had that absolute certainty that they were a constant in each other life and that they would eventually be reunited.

This time was different. This fight was different. It wasn’t just a spat or a divergence of opinion. It was one of them deeply wounding the other and the other having no clear idea of how to act about it. The feeling was new, immensely unpleasant, deeply unsettling and immeasurably painful. 

Aziraphale had never fully noticed how much he had relied on Crowley all these past centuries, especially since they were both living in London. How he had come to lean on him, even.  
How Crowley had became so completely intertwined in his daily life to talk, to laugh, to drink, to eat or simply to spend time with someone he cared about.

Because he cared about Crowley; there was no denying that. Aziraphale was pretty good at turning a blind eye to things he didn’t want to see, but he couldn’t deny anymore the way he was feeling. There was no mistaking the aching he felt with each passing day without seeing Crowley. There was no other way to explain the way his heart jumped into his chest every time the bookshop’s door opened in hope it would be Crowley. And there was no other explanation for the utter distress he felt every time it wasn’t him crossing the threshold. Like with words, for the first time in his life, Aziraphale was feeling like time was betraying him. Because there was not much left of it before the end of the world, and the person he cared the most about was not a part of his life anymore. 

Well, it wouldn’t do, Aziraphale decided after spending a whole afternoon watching at his phone hoping it would ring. It wouldn’t do at all. There were some times to be conveniently unaware of your own feelings, and there were some times to confront them. 6000 years of denial and the world ending very soon sounded like a good time to start taking action. 

*******************************

To say that Crowley seemed happy to see him would be a bit of a stretch of the truth. He obviously knew who it was before opening the door but his face nonetheless did something very complicated when he saw Aziraphale before settling on a very carefully controlled expression.  
  
“What do you want?” he asked a bit curtly.  
  
“I’m very sorry to stop by unannounced. I know it’s rather rude, but I need to speak with you.” Aziraphale’s voice was nowhere near as steady as he would have liked, and he cleared his throat.  
  
“Would you be so kind as to let me come in?”  
  
Crowley hesitated briefly but eventually stepped aside to let him in before leading the way to the living room. Aziraphale had been there a few times before, but he pretended to examine his surroundings with great attention to gain composure. He awkwardly asked Crowley about his plants to which Crowley rolled his eyes without answering.  
  
“Why are you here?” he asked instead. “Any news on the front of the end of the world?”  
  
Aziraphale shook his head. “No.”  
  
“Then what?” prompted Crowley a bit impatiently.  
  
Aziraphale swallowed and had to resist the urge to fidget with his fingers. He had known it wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t anticipated it would be so utterly terrifying.  
  
“I’ve never had...” he started feebly, then stopped right away. “I don’t know…” he tried again before trailing off. “I can’t think…” Aziraphale closed his mouth and sighed in frustration at his own jabber.  
  
He focused hard on his jumbling thoughts and decided to start with something simple.  
  
“I’m sorry I said we weren’t friends. It is obviously not true, and I apologize,” he began hesitantly.  
  
It didn’t stir any reaction from Crowley so Aziraphale bravely continued.  
  
“Surely by now you know how I feel about you,” he said tentatively.  
  
That prompted a bitter laugh.  
  
“How would I? The only thing you have ever said about it was that we’re not friends. “  
  
Aziraphale flinched at the clipped tone as much as at the jab, but he took on the blame without a word.  
  
“Of course we are friends,” he said softly. “You are not just my friend, Crowley, you are my _best_ friend. Actually you are my _only_ friend. I was very wrong to say what I said. I didn’t know it would hurt you so much. I didn’t mean to.”  
  
“You didn’t know? I had just asked you to run away with me! What did you think?”  
  
Crowley looked very angry now and Aziraphale couldn’t blame him.  
  
“Do you think I would have asked just anyone to run away with me?” Crowley asked sharply. “Do you think I would _want_ anyone to run away with me? I asked you because you are my best friend in the world, and I can’t even imagine you not being in my life.” Crowley’s voice trailed off and he deflated all of a sudden, looking so open and vulnerable it made Aziraphale feel sick.  
  
Crowley turned his back to Aziraphale, obviously at war with himself to keep his emotions in check. He eventually faced him again, his face raw but his voice steady.  
  
“I need you, angel,” he whispered.  


Aziraphale’s heart exploded into his chest. He had never heard such a palpable pain in Crowley’s voice. It was agonizing. He cleared his throat a few times, struggling to find the words that would convey everything he felt in that moment. It took a couple of false starts and his voice was a bit wobbly when he found it.

“I had no idea you felt that way. I’m so sorry, my dear. I never meant to hurt you.” Aziraphale’s voice broke a bit on the last words and he took a shaky breath to pull himself together.  
  
“I need you too, Crowley. I do,” Aziraphale exhaled on a soft sigh. “I want you in my life, and I’m sorry it took me so long to admit it.”  


Crowley was so stiff it must have hurt every one of his bones. His jaw was squared so tightly it would probably have broken on a genuine human body. Aziraphale could see that Crowley had no idea what to do with what he was saying. He was probably attempting to keep protecting himself. Aziraphale had hurt him once and he knew that Crowley needed to be absolutely sure that Aziraphale wouldn’t do it again before giving in to his feelings.

Aziraphale came closer to Crowley, slowly, very slowly, so very careful not to startle him. He touched his sunglasses with a questioning look, and when Crowley didn’t react, he softly took them off and miracled them somewhere else. Crowley’s eyes looked haunted, their yellow shade enhanced by the deep dark circles under them. 

“I need you,” Aziraphale said again. He was under the impression he could never say it enough to mend what he had wounded. “You are not just my best friend, Crowley, you are so much more.” 

Aziraphale closed his fingers around Crowley’s wrist very loosely, barely touching him. Crowley went even stiffer but didn’t move, keeping his gaze straight above Aziraphale’s head. Aziraphale made a step further, just enough to invade Crowley’s space and to be able to settle his chin on the crook of his neck. 

“You are everything I need and everything I want,” he breathed against his neck.” I miss you so much. _Please.”_

Aziraphale wasn’t even sure what he was saying please for. This little word, murmured against Crowley’s skin had so many meanings at this instant. _Please forgive me. Please tell me it’s not too late. Please talk to me. Please take me in your arms._ Aziraphale hoped with all his might that it would be enough to convey all the feelings he was too overwhelmed to express differently. 

Everything was completely still for a very long while, the only sound in the room the labored breathing of this two entities that didn’t even need to breathe. Finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity, Crowley turned his hand in Aziraphale’s feathered grip on his wrist and intertwined their fingers. 

The broken sigh of relief Aziraphale exhaled on the crook on his neck was heart wrenching. Crowley slowly raised his other arm and wrapped it around Aziraphale’s frame, bringing him closer. Aziraphale mirrored him in a heartbeat, pushing himself against Crowley.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered. “So sorry. Please forgive me, my dear.”

Crowley let go of Aziraphale’s hand with an infinite softness and wrapped his other arm around him. Aziraphale mirrored him again, molding himself against Crowley.

“I forgive you, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed. Please let me know, feedback always makes my day and fuels my motivation.  
> I'm diaboloframboise on Tumblr if you want to say hi!


End file.
